


Unfinished Business

by SecretSide



Category: Disobedience (2017), Disobedience - Naomi Alderman
Genre: Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon Queer Relationship, Disobedience, Disobedience movie, F/F, Lesbian Character, Queer Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretSide/pseuds/SecretSide
Summary: On her return to NYC after a tearful parting with Esti Ronit tries to convince herself that the time has arrived for her to move beyond this nearly lifelong romantic attachment. Meanwhile, Esti remains in London, regretting that she did not profess her love to Ronit in return and unsure how exactly Ronit interpreted her decision to stay in London.Two years later Ronit is in an open relationship with a woman in NYC. Esti lives in London, going on the occasional date but focusing primarily on her baby and career. When Ronit’s agent lands her a prime gig in London she is flooded with a mix of conflicting emotions and uncertainties, but this does not stop her from reaching out to Esti immediately to share the news of her upcoming journey.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler alert for people who haven't seen the film!
> 
> This is a fanfic inspired primarily by the movie. It's also my first time writing and sharing fanfic, so I'm kind of shy, and any feedback you have would be appreciated. Thank you to the A03 writers who have already written such great Disobedience fic for the inspiration! Thank you even more to Naomi Alderman for inventing these fascinating characters.
> 
> One more thing: I realize that this work might appear more sympathetic to Ronit than Esti, at least in the beginning. My heart broke for both of them but there's something about Ronit's situation at the end that pained me even more, and I'm sure it's reflected in my writing.

Ronit

“Drowning in the sea of love, where everyone would love to drown. But now it's gone, it doesn't matter what for. When you build your house, then call me home, ” Stevie Nicks crooned in my ear as I slumped dejectedly on the inhospitable airport lounge chair. I winced as I processed these lines, reliving the raw goodbye with Esti only three hours earlier. “Sara, you’re the poet in my heart. Never change, and don’t you ever stop...” At the time of our parting I was too heartbroken to register any emotion other than unalloyed sadness. However, as I sat alone waiting for British Airways Flight 485 to convey me home to New York City I recognized a flame of frustration flickering within my fiery heart.

Distressing questions relating to my recent experiences with Esti swirled through my overtaxed brain. Why didn’t she return my earnest declaration of love, which I offered to her not once but twice in the taxi? If she wasn’t prepared to leave for New York with me why didn’t she alternatively invite me to join her in building a new life in London? Why did I participate in the demolition of her marriage to my childhood friend, Dovid, for a romantic reunion with a 72 hour expiration date?

Finally a respite from these tormented inquiries came in the form of a crisp voice announcing the imminent start of the boarding process. “Ooh, get me away from here, I’m dying, play me a song to set me free,” implored Belle and Sebastian from my headphones as I gathered up my luggage. “Damn right, Stuart Murdoch,” I mumbled, eager to permanently abandon my hostile hometown. Thirty minutes later I wearily leaned my head against the murky window of the 747 conveying me back to the Greatest City in the World, hoping that both time and distance would permanently heal the wounds of the past and the present. I felt near certain that I had achieved some real closure regarding my relationship with my father. The final visit to his grave truly felt like a catharsis, and going forward I would have photographic evidence to remind me of this release.

With Esti, however, I did not feel anything resembling closure. There was a gaping wound on my heart that I’d stitched up so carefully years ago, but now it had been freshly ripped open when she closed the taxi door. My visit to London unlocked a Pandora’s box of emotions and possibilities that I had neither prepared for nor sought out: this compounded with my guilt at loving my friend Dovid’s wife. Despite Esti’s starring role in reigniting our romance I was instantly aware of my excitement at stepping back into my old part. What I somehow didn’t anticipate after we began was such an abrupt ending. 

True, I dragged my feet in inviting Esti to return to New York with me. As I recalled the pleading look in her eyes as she asked where she would go if she left Dovid I felt a sledgehammer strike my insides. Perhaps this hesitation factored into Esti ultimately refraining from accompanying me across the pond. The explanation that she gave me the night before I left was a sense of obligation to keep her child as geographically close to their father as possible. As someone who didn’t have the luxury of an extended childhood with two parents I understood this selfless decision, kind to both to Dovid and their child. I silently questioned how involved Dovid would permit this child of his lesbian soon to be ex-wife be within his strict community, but withheld this concern from Esti. It really wasn’t my battle to wage: the horse I had in that race had been disqualified. 

As usual, Esti awarded her own needs and wants the lowest priority, and for practical Virgo reasons unknown to my Sagittarius self failed to utter the request boomeranging around my brain: “I love you; would you want to stay on in London with me?” Clearly she had her own unexpressed reasons for forgoing this overture, and as her lifelong friend I needed to respect her decision. We were friends before we were lovers and that original loyalty must take precedence. 

What I also needed to do going forward, for my own peace of mind and heart, was to move on romantically. But this rational part of my mind was eclipsed by recollections of her tongue gliding into my mouth, my hand on her breast as I took her from behind, her fingers snaking into my underwear to caress her core. And even more how she could communicate with me so completely and coherently without even opening her mouth. Most people convey far less substantive emotion with their words than she could to me with a quick furrow of her dimples, the hushed light radiating from her azure gaze, the voluptuous purse of her lips on a shared cigarette. 

As I continued to reflect I realized that with all of these gestures and more she iterated and reiterated her love for me, a practice she had engaged in since we were kids. I had been hanging my hopes on a vocal confirmation, but she operated on a far more primal plane. As the airplane barreled down the runway I turned my head around to drink in my final moments of London, wondering to myself, “How can I look anywhere but back?”

 

Esti

Another wave of nausea crashed over me as I crouched on the loo floor, the agony of losing Ronit yet again compounding my morning sickness. I had been ill in the head for over a year after she fled to America fifteen years ago, and I wondered to what extent the physical and mental toll of her departure would be on me this time. I would need to fight it off with every ounce of strength I could muster, because in seven short months somebody new and helpless would be relying on me to be my best self. 

Allowing Ronit to slip through my fingers and return to her elusive and enthralling life in New York without me hit me even harder than the first time she left, because this time she invited me to join her and unequivocally confirmed her love for me. I deeply regret not echoing her “I love yous” in the taxi. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was the first time Ronit had ever uttered it to a romantic partner. Instead I just sat paralyzed, nothing moving but the tears pouring down my face. I hoped that if I refrained from verbally echoing Ronit’s sentiment it might make it even a little easier for her to leave without me. If it’s true that actions speak louder than words than she understands my vast love for her, but Ronit deserved to hear it from my own lips after pledging her own devotion so ardently and vulnerably. 

Friends tell me that I’m a woman of few words; they’re surely correct, but in this case there were only three short words I needed to say. I almost said them after she went down on me at the hotel, quivering for quite some time after I finished, her head laying on my chest as I stroked her hair in the sensual silence. I almost whispered them as we scurried into the synagogue for the Rav’s hesped, as I whirled around and observed her shy yet overpowering decision to touch me, even just graze my shoulder. I almost divulged them as she stood in the vestibule of my house with her luggage on the day of her departure, gazing at me with her liquid brown eyes, but the blare of her taxi’s horn shook me into speechlessness. I only managed to exclaim “May you live a long life” as she vanished into the car waiting indifferently to convey her away from me. 

“Ronit, of course I wanted to flee to New York with you,” I silently shouted into the universe. “I’ve never even left England, despite my 35 years. The sad truth is that if you had shown up in Hendon at any point prior to this past Sunday and asked me to go away with you I would have agreed within the timeframe of a single heartbeat.” I had been looking for an impetus to resurrect my life for years, and importuned the universe that it would involve Ronit. And now it has, albeit not with the outcome that I had hoped or envisioned. 

Before I learned that I was pregnant I had always felt abstractly ambivalent about motherhood, and didn’t particularly share Dovid’s sadness at our longtime inability to conceive. I foresaw a pregnancy as a further link binding me to a community I loved but would one day leave without regret. The return of Ronit, combined with the nearly simultaneous news of the unexpected pregnancy, infused me with the courage to request, if not demand, liberty for myself and this child.

Perhaps to an observer it would appear logical that Ronit, the epitome of freedom, would join me in my newfound quest. In an act of compassion and sacrifice for both Dovid and our child I opted to decline her offer to move to New York, a decision I relayed to Ronit with minimal explanation. She was the strongest and most fearless person that I knew: New York City in the flesh. How could she be expected to eschew her hard-fought success for an uncertain return to the city of her banishment? Therefore, despite my overwhelming desire to implore Ronit to accompany me on my imposing journey, I refrained from asking on our last night together. And again in the taxi the following morning. 

In the baffling amount of retrospect that a single day can sometimes bring I realized my error in not offering her the opportunity to make such a decision. I flinched when I pondered potential consequences, the most severe materializing as Ronit interpreting my words and actions as a permanent split rather than a plea to wait for me to begin anew.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter takes place a year and a half after Ronit and Esti part in London. It's written from Ronit's POV.   
> Thanks for reading!

Ronit

I was in the middle of a really intriguing dream in which my dentist and I were picking our way through a maze of giant marshmallows shaped like mushrooms when the shriek of my cell phone shocked me back into wakefulness. I saw that the caller was Abi, and sleepily slurred, “Hey, babe, I just had the most bizarre dream about my dentist and a field of magic marshmallows.” 

Abi’s laugh trilled through the receiver before she quipped, “Wow, I think that’s your dentist’s way of getting you to floss more- by appearing in your dreams in a cavity riddled forest!”

I chuckled in return, imagining throwing my torpid arms around the sturdy shoulders of the only girlfriend of my adulthood thus far. Abi and I met at a potluck at a Reform synagogue in the West Village about eight months ago. Returning to Hendon last year for my father’s funeral had the unexpected effect of encouraging me to reconnect with the Jewish faith, albeit in the context of a much more progressive denomination. 

I’m convinced that part of the inspiration came from inheriting my mother’s Shabbat candles, which filled me with a sense of poignancy and nostalgia for this nurturing woman who was taken from me far too early. I was so overwhelmed at my father’s house after the feverish kisses Esti and I shared that I completely forgot about the candles. 

Luckily for me, Esti - thoughtful as always- remembered, and secretly slipped them into her “sexy bag” for me. I’ve made it a point to light the candles every Friday evening I can since receiving them, and Abi often participates. Sometimes I can’t help envisioning Esti standing there next to me, appearing in sharp relief when I light the candles and disappearing when I reluctantly snuff out their flames. 

My romantic situation with Abi was different than any others that I’d ever had. Abi and I were in an open relationship - a first for me. She was also in a relationship with Fay, her girlfriend of five years. I’d never really thought much about open relationships, but given my longtime reluctance to commit to a monogamous relationship and Abi’s encouragement to experiment with others I decided to give it a try. 

Thus far it’s worked well for us. Abi and Fay live in an apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, and so there’s none of that lesbian U-Haul business to worry about on my end. They’re both pushing forty, and want a kid sometime in the foreseeable future. I don’t know what impact that would have on our relationship, but I don’t lose sleep over it. I enjoy what we have while we have it. 

Abi sleeps over at my condo in Alphabet City a couple times a week, and we fill our hours catching flicks at Anthology, working our way through every non-American restaurant on the east side, and enjoying some damn good sex. I still relish an occasional casual encounter with a rugby-esque man here and there, emphasis on the casual. 

Abi doesn’t seem to have a jealous bone in her sinewy body, a quality I find both likable and bewildering. She fucks me expertly and doesn’t give a fuck if I seek it elsewhere. She isn’t even envious of Esti. I told her the whole story, from birth to la petite mort, and she whistled her sorrow aloud, pulling me in close and lamenting, “I wish I could hug Esti through you. I hope she finds the peace and acceptance that she deserves.”

When I met Abi I wasn’t really in the market for a serious relationship. I was still in the process of mourning my break with Esti, who I rarely spoke with these days. Esti had given birth to a healthy baby boy named Caleb about ten months ago. She sent me a birth announcement and a few letters after that, including some with photos. It’s startling how much a baby can resemble an adult; he looks like a teeny, chubby Esti. 

Around his six month birthday Esti informed me that she and Caleb were living on their own in a flat in Harrow, a suburb of London about a half hour away from Hendon. She was teaching at a primary school and hoping to soon begin a graduate program in education at a local university. 

I got the sense that Esti wished to initiate a periodic correspondence with me, but I wasn’t yet ready to be close platonic pen pals. I knew that I still had to keep my guard up as I continued to work through the emotional labyrinth uncoiled by our brief rekindling last year. I answered her most recently letter cautiously but pleasantly, congratulating Esti on her plans to further her education and waxing on Caleb’s adorableness. 

I contemplated casually mentioning Abi, but realized there was no casual way of mentioning Abi to Esti, so I just omitted that aspect of my life from my response. I remember how crestfallen Esti had looked when she inferred that I had had sexual relationships with other women. Because Abi and I hadn’t been dating very long at the time of this letter I decided to table the news for the time being. 

I snicker when I think about what Esti would have said if I’d asked her for an open relationship when we were together-ish. Any time a boy looked at me sideways back then her placid smile curved into a scowl, and she reflexively fastened her hand onto my elbow. We were young so we were still pretty naive but I can only imagine how a grown up Esti would have reacted to this request. Let’s just say her reaction would probably be very Secretary.

This thought spurred a flashback to the afternoon in the London hotel, a newly uninhibited Esti on top, four fingers pistoning into me, her other hand pulling my hair as she whispered, “Come for me, Ronit, I’ve been waiting for so long. I’m so fucking hungry for it. Come for me.” As I started tightening up inside and my thighs started quaking she slid down my body rapidly, anchoring her mouth onto my clit without removing a single finger. 

I’ve had a lot of sex in my day but none of it held a candle to the sound of Esti moaning into my cunt, the sight of her touching herself as she fingered me, the taste of her as she rubbed her fingers dripping with her own wetness across my lips. I try not to think about it too much because every time I do I have to immediately go change my underwear. She was mindblowingly skilled for someone with such little experience with women, but even more than that, her pheromones indubitably had the most powerful chemical bond with mine. But stronger forces had repelled it. 

Abi’s husky voice on the other end of the phone line snapped me back to reality. “I have my last acupuncture client at six today; would you want to grab some dinner afterward? I’ve been aching to try that new Moroccan restaurant on East 7th and 1st.”

“Absolutely,” I replied, trying to sound less distracted than I felt. “I’ll meet you there at 6:30- I have a few hours of work to finish in the darkroom, so that’ll be perfect. See you then!”


	3. Chapter 3

Esti

I saw a woman at the grocer’s today who was a near doppelgänger of Ronit. I was on a serious mission to locate the typical two or three diamond avocados in the rough when I accidentally knocked one onto the shoe of a woman adjacent to me. “Sorry about that!” I exclaimed, bending over to scoop up the runaway fruit. 

“It’s no problem at all. I was on the prowl for a good avocado, anyway, and this time it selected me instead of the other way around!” smiled a husky voice. 

As I stood up I glanced over at the voice’s owner, my eyes widening as I thirstily drank in her regal features. She could easily have been Ronit’s sister. Same flowing dark brown locks, same shapely hands… even the same angled smile. As I tried in vain to curb my staring the woman gave me a coltish grin and rambled away. 

I felt myself reddening as the thought occurred to me that I could have been perceived as flirting. I’m still in the process of unlearning embarrassment and shame regarding my interactions with other woman. I’ve naturally been very occupied with caring for Caleb and researching education graduate programs; my child comes first, followed by my career and earning potential. I’ve gone on exactly five dates in the year and a half since Ronit left, and only one involved a bedroom. 

The bedroom in question belonged to a scrappy tube operator from Camden Town named Jo. I was instantly attracted to her spark and her pluck, as well as her knifelike blue eyes, and floatingly accompanied her back to her flat after a picnic of fish and chips in Bloomsbury Square. My hands were tangled in her messy blond pixie before she could even offer me that beer she had discussed on the bus ride back. She was only the second woman I had ever kissed, and my desire detonated immediately. Any lingering repression disintegrated into the shallow space between our two bodies, her adept hands skillfully unhooking the tiny clasps on my blouse. 

At this moment my mind flashed back to my time in the hotel with Ronit, when she was so desperate to connect with me that she didn’t even pause to remove my shell. “Esti, stop it,” I chided myself. “Focus on Jo! You’re here with her, she’s outlandishly dreamy, and she clearly wants to satisfy you.” 

My right hand timidly trailed down Jo’s muscular torso, pausing at the zipper of her sturdy trousers. Much to my surprise I encountered a hard plastic bulge pressed beneath her fly. My cheeks flushed, and I gazed quizzically up at Jo, who returned my look with a blast of ardor. I’d never once climaxed from penetration like that… on the contrary, I had spent the majority of the Fridays of my adult life counting the moments until Dovid retreated from me. It still felt so fresh, I was uncertain I was ready to be taken like that again, even by a woman. 

Before Jo could open her mouth to ask for my consent I pressed my lips to hers, pausing between kisses to ask for her fingers on my clit. She appeared to instantly understand my gentle decline, respectfully nodding her assent as she unpeeled my underwear, her unblinking blue eyes radiating into my own. I wasn’t unintrigued by the concept of a strap on, and I wasn’t closed to the idea of incorporating one into my sex life in the future. Only… I saw myself as the one wearing it instead. 

All of my dates had resulted from a silly profile that one of my teacher colleagues had persuaded me to post on a lesbian dating website. It was a difficult step to take - a leap, really- but I made it over the chasm of my insecurity, and was proud at this move toward what my psychologist, Dr. Gold, calls my “self-actualization.” 

I started seeing this therapist shortly before Caleb was born- she is also a former member of the Orthodox faith. I’d seen an advertisement for her practice in a progressive Jewish magazine at a bookstore and with a newfound impulsivity booked an appointment with her. From the moment I entered her office I felt that she really saw me, and understood me, and she is helping me achieve both of these things within myself. 

It was in Dr. Gold’s waiting room that I first heard the music of the American folk singer Dar Williams. The song that came on is called “As Cool as I Am,” and as I listened, the chorus reverberated in my head: “I will not be afraid of women, I will not be afraid of women.” I don’t believe Dar meant this terms of attraction to women -- rather, not being intimidated by other women -- but I instantly repurposed it and repeat it in my head like a mantra. 

When I first started seeing Dr. Gold the two main topics of conversation were leaving my lifelong home and social network in Hendon and, not surprisingly, Ronit. The third major change in my life at the time, of course, was becoming a mother to Caleb; although unlike the other two major life events his entrance into my life did not cause me strife. 

Dr. Gold helped me to make a patchwork peace with my decision not to move to New York with Ronit. I recognized the rationality of my choice, and how little time life awarded me to make such a momentous decision. I know that Ronit understood my reasoning, and she told me the day before we parted that she supported me, but I discern the impact it had on our relationship. 

We’ve only communicated a handful of times since she returned to New York, generally at my initiation. I’ve known her since we were eight years old, and am cognizant of how she guards her emotions like a hawk. Who could blame her, after being raised by the remote and distracted Rav? I can only envision that in the time since we parted she built walls that are intended to hold me at bay - not out of spite, but out of self-protection. 

The last letter she wrote was affable but reserved; she spoke at length about her professional adventures but offered very little about her personal life. I had always been able to read Ronit like a book, and found myself longing to write her back into my story. I craved the opportunity to see her in person, but I lacked the money or the childcare support to travel to New York, and given the palpable reserve stamped onto her letters figured it would be awhile before she suggested a vacation to London.

The loud groan of a squeaky shopping cart snapped me back to reality, and I made my way to the checkout counter. As I lugged the groceries to the tube to go pick up Caleb from Dovid’s house I paused to boot up Dar Williams on my phone. “I’ve never had a way with women, but the hills of Iowa make me wish that I could. And I’ve never found a way to say I love you, but if the chance came by, oh I, I would.” 

Would I ever.


	4. Chapter 4

_Ronit ___

The elevator doors glided open and I stepped out with anticipation, waiting impatiently to learn what Tyler, my agent, had to tell me. He looked nothing short of a GQ cover as always, with his tight French crop, dark grey Thom Browne suit, and thin layer of midnight stubble lazing across his chiseled chin.

“Ronit!” Tyler exclaimed as I knocked on his open office door. “Come on in!”

“Hey Tyler, I’ve been on the edge of my seat since your text yesterday. What’s up?” I inquired, jauntily arching my eyebrow.

“Well, be prepared to fall off your chair, then, because you’re headed to London next month to work Fashion Week!”  
His words left me suspended in midair for a few moments, and I attempted to collect my swirling thoughts. In spite of my misgivings the image of Esti imprinted onto my brain, superimposing even this high-profile professional opportunity.

“Whoa, Tyler, that’s… fantastic,” I stammered. “Thank you,” I added, as a distracted afterthought. He began yammering about the details of the assignment: fellow New York photographers headed to the big event, models I had and hadn’t worked with, the debut of Joseph Altuzarra’s mythical new line.

The words falling out of his mouth levitated into the air, morphing into an Esti-shaped mirage. Knowing I currently possessed the attention span of a spaniel puppy, I nodded along monosyllabically, reminding him to forward the itinerary to my email.

I rode the elevator down to the lobby in a daze, the foreknowledge that in three weeks I would be in the same city as Esti ping-ponging in my brain. I was already crafting a letter to her in my head declaring my impending arrival before the elevator doors opened. A windy rain and reminiscences of Esti blurrily propelled me back to my apartment, where I immediately sat down to put my thoughts to paper.

 _Hi Esti,_  
Hope you and Caleb are enjoying the dog days of summer! I wanted to let you know that I just found out I’ll be traveling to London for a week or two next month. My agent secured me a Fashion Week gig! Will you be in the city mid-September? It would be great to catch up in person and to meet Caleb. Let me know? You can also reach me at Ronit.Krushka@gmail.com, it’ll be faster than snail mail.  
Talk soon,  
Ronit  


It seemed somewhat funny to send such a breezy and borderline impersonal letter to a woman with whom I had shared such profound emotional and sexual bonds, but it was certainly true to my character. I wanted to see her, but with the foresight of caution. Not only because I was involved with Abi- we maintained an open relationship, after all- but because of how wholly my inhibitions crumbled when I saw her last.

Ever since we were kids Esti had presented as reticent and compliant to the majority of the community, but within our relationship she is in the ascendent. Behind my outgoing and unfettered persona is a profound yearning for someone who can help relieve me of the pressing need to be in control. This quality has been an integral and necessary component of my being for most of my life. When my father banished me from his community I became the only person responsible for me at age eighteen.

Intense self-discipline and a motivation for mastery rewarded me both in college and in the cutthroat world of fashion photography, but it’s become so ingrained that it can be difficult to escape. Esti fulfills this longing of mine and she does it damn well- almost too adroitly for my own comfort. When I’m with her I find myself often looking to her verbally and visually for her advice, her opinion, even her permission… it turns me on, and it makes me feel safe.

I licked the letter closed, reaching for a Gauloises and a tube of burgundy lipstick. Tomorrow I would gingerly deposit the letter into the battered mailbox on my block, but tonight I would declutter my mind on the dance floor with the welcome company of a steady stream of Manhattans.

With an indolent sigh I launched myself up from the couch, opening my Spotify app in the process. I scanned my playlists as I tried to determine what I was in the mood to hear. I settled on New Order’s Danciest Songs, but the song that began playing was certainly not one of Bernard Sumner’s. Instead, Patti Smith’s contralto purred, “She is benediction, she is addicted to thee. She is the root connection…”

With a jolt I realized that I accidentally selected the option next to New Order, a playlist I’d made shortly after I’d returned from England. I titled it “I Have Always Wanted It,” a statement I overheard Esti blurt out to Dovid as she confessed both her queer sexuality and lingering attraction to me. The songs’ themes were a mix of heartbreak, defiance, nostalgia, friendship, and personal strength… all components that I needed for coping and healing.

_Esti_

I fumbled in my handbag for my keys, holding Caleb on one hip and an overflowing bag of groceries in the other. My fingers finally made contact with my apple-shaped #1 Teacher keychain, a farewell gift from one of my fifth-graders. It had been unbearably painful to part with my students at my former school- the headmistress wouldn't even let me finish out the school year.

My last day had been on a dreary March day, my eyes drizzling tears as I looked out over the cloudy faces of my girls. They were told by the school administration that I was leaving to focus on motherhood, a typical decision in our community. I wondered what they would have thought of me if they knew the truth, and if any girl in my classroom would one day find herself in a similar situation.

Grabbing the set of keys I awkwardly pried open my mailbox. Two envelopes greeted me, a severe white envelope stamped with the logo of my electrical company and a mysterious pink letter peering out from below. I didn't receive many letters, and curiously scanned it for a return address, my eyelids fluttering when I glimpsed the name RONIT KRUSHKA scrawled boldly in the corner. Despite my initial urge to tear such a rare and welcome missive open on the spot I convinced myself to wait until later, when I would sink onto my groaning couch with a of calming glass of rosé and a fidgety heart.

A few hours later, after I had finally managed to convince a raucous Caleb into slumber and thrown together a ginger chicken and broccoli stir fry, I sat down with Ronit's letter. The mere knowledge that her tongue had licked the envelope and the same fingers that had pleasured me so expertly had slipped the letter into a mailbox made my lower half clench. Trying to temper my deep visceral reaction to a letter I unsealed the envelope.

As I read Ronit’s succinct note, which lightheartedly informed me that she was coming to London for work and wondered if I’d like to catch up, I stared into the piece of a paper as if it were a crystal ball. I hunted for a vision of a future with her but saw nothing except the markings of a fading black pen. “This is your big chance, Esti. Perhaps even your last chance,” breathed the voice of Father Time into my ear.

Booting up my secondhand Acer laptop I immediately dashed off an email reply.

_Hello Ronit,_

_How exciting to hear that you will be traveling to London next month! Congratulations on getting the Fashion Week gig- that sounds very prestigious. Yes, Caleb and I will be here all month; school just started, so I’m back at work during the day, but quite flexible on evenings and weekends._

_I’ll start looking into some possible art and cultural activities that we can do together; since I left Hendon I’ve spent quite a bit of time exploring the museums and galleries with Caleb in tow. Once you know the dates you’ll be here please send them along and we can make plans._

_Looking forward,_

_Esti_

I reread the note three times to ensure the casual tone mirrored hers, and tapped “send” with a shaky finger.

I knew next to nothing about the current state of Ronit’s love life, but was well aware of what I wished for the future status. In this case the failure of rejection would be heartbreaking, but it would be considerably less devastating than spending one more day with the the hauntings of the hypothetical. I’m no stranger to taking charge in my relationship with Ronit, and I can tell that’s how she likes it. When she returns to London I will stockpile this steadfastness of mine, pooling it with my newfound autonomy to show a guarded Ronit that I still and will always want it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, recalling the final time Ronit had touched me before the Rav discovered us. It was my 19th birthday, and Ronit nonchalantly invited me to stop over her house after my morning errands. I rang the doorbell, praying the Rav wouldn’t be home, and Ronit appeared in the doorframe, brandishing a confetti cake and an immense grin. After leading me to her bedroom she handed me a small box declaring “Happy Birthday” in every color of the spectrum.

Blushing at the attention I took her hand, using it to help me open the gift. Inside was a silver necklace with a topaz teardrop hanging from the chain. I drew my breath in sharply, overcome with the goodness of the woman before me. Looking up into Ronit’s eyes I was startled to see tears threatening to spill out of the corners. “Ronit! What’s wrong? I love it, thank you so much,” I reassured her, softly stroking her back.

“N-n-nothing, Esti,” she spluttered. “I- I just wanted to make sure your birthday would be special. I love seeing you look so happy.”

She hid her face in her hands for a moment and when she uncovered it her usual rakish grin had reappeared. “Here, let me put it on for you!”

As she clasped the necklace Ronit’s warm breath flowed onto the back of my neck, causing a heat to begin cascading through me. I wheeled around, breathing heavily, and was met by the crush of her lips against mine. Her fervor poured into me, her hands massaging every square inch of me through the fabric of my shell.

Her right hand slipped up under my skirt, stroking its way upwards until she couldn’t go any farther. The fact that two layers of fabric lay between her hand and my core was a nonstarter; all that mattered was that it was Ronit, and her caresses were perfectly in sync with the gasps I softly emitted. As she rubbed me her wide eyes commanded my gaze the entire time, straying only once to take in the new jewelry bobbing on my neck.

As I sat in my living room I let my fingers run over the teardrop of the necklace that I had never taken off, not even during my marriage to Dovid. The shape couldn’t have been more apt; it was only a week after my birthday that the Rav walked in on us, and Ronit walked out shortly afterward.

The “ding!” of a new email snapped me out of my reverie. Despite the fact that it was 2am in New York Ronit had responded already- probably from the back of a cab on the way home from a club.

_Dear Esti,_

_That’s great you’ll be around when I’m in London! I’d love to visit some of your favorite museums- it’s been ages since I did some of that fun sightseeing stuff in London. I’ll be staying at a hotel in Chelsea from September 10th-22nd; want to say let’s meet for dinner on the 11th and we can go from there?_

_xo Ronit_


	5. Chapter 5

I stood outside of a modish Hackney Wick Thai restaurant, marveling at both Esti’s tony restaurant selection and the radical gentrification of this formerly tumble-down canalside neighborhood. Glancing at my Apple watch I realized that I was running five minutes past our agreed meeting time of 6:30- or 18:30, as Esti told time. Popping open the mauve compact I kept in my roomy black bag I hastily applied a last minute top coat of ruby red lipstick. 

A diminutive Ronit peered back at me nervously from within the small looking glass. “Don’t be so anxious,” I chided myself. “You’ve known this woman since you were eight years old. She’s bought you maxi pads, held your hair as you vomited up Passover wine multiple Passovers in a row, and licked your pussy thrice a week for four years. Buck the fuck up.”

Giving my dense brown locks a proud shake I stalked into the restaurant, my tawny eyes scanning the swarming room for Esti. I felt her before I saw her. Turning my head deliberately to the right I took in the sight of her drinking me in. Swallowing gracelessly I managed a Queenlike half wave, causing a languid smile to elongate from dimple to dimple. She stood up as I haltingly made my way to the glass four-top. "Ronit," Esti breathed, opening her slim, ivory arms. I drifted dreamily into her embrace, pulling back after a few moments to absorb her alluring appearance. She wore a simple but tasteful three-quarter sleeve, knee-length black dress, with patent leather flats and her light brown hair swept into a neat bun. The shiny fabric of her dress hugged her svelte figure, which somehow looked identical to her body prior to birthing a child. 

Lifting up my eyes I caught the flicker of a wry smile lighting up her face, and my cheeks reddened as I registered that she had caught me checking her out red-handed. Throwing me a challenging gaze she informed me with her eyes that it was her turn to look, and I tried not to squirm as I sensed her penetrating blue stare work me over from head to toe. 

“Hi, Esti. It’s good to see you again,” I huskily ventured, gently extricating myself from her hypnotic visual and physical grip. 

“It’s good to see you, too, Ronit. I’m so happy that you were sent to London on assignment. I can’t believe how long it’s been.... over two years,” she replied, delicately slipping into her chair and gesturing me to join her.

The recognition that another two years of our lives had lackadaisically elapsed without the other in it forced an involuntary intake of breath into my lungs. “Ronit, are you okay?” Esti asked, eagle-eyed as always. 

“Yes, I’m fine, thanks. I, just… there was a delay on the tube, and it made me late, so I basically galloped to the restaurant.”

“On four inch stilettos?” Esti responded quizzically, her brows pursed in amusement. 

“Why, yes. I’m a New Yorker… I can simultaneously sprint in heels, light a cigarette, and read a newspaper- and that’s all before 9am, mind you!”

Esti smiled knowingly in reply, waiting patiently for me to select and broach the next conversational topic. Before I could continue a petite, well-manicured waiter materialized, his appearance reminding me that although Esti and I had thought we were alone so many times we never truly were. “Good evening, ladies! May I get you started with some drinks?” he trilled.

Before I could respond Esti exclaimed, “We’re ready to order, thanks! We’ll have two Singhas, an order of summer rolls, chicken phat phrik khing, and a tofu and vegetable pad see ew to share.”

The waiter jotted down her request and nodded cheerfully before floating away.

Some people would have been perturbed by her boldness in ordering for the both of us without any consultation, but not me. I felt taken care of, and a warm feeling pulsed through my veins in knee-jerk reply. “Wow, Esti, where did you learn all about Thai cuisine? I’m impressed!”

“I have my ways,” she responded mischievously, her dimples winking at the corners of her full mouth. 

“Clearly! And how’s Caleb? Wow, he must be, what… close to two years old now?” I questioned.

“Twenty months- and he’s equal parts joyful and a handful! I took this photo of him today earlier at the park,” she replied, handing me her phone. A flaxen mop of hair topped Caleb’s cherubic pink face, a copy in miniature of his mother’s. He sported a cozy onesie bedecked with grinning green triceratops and smiling stegosauruses. 

“Caleb really is divine, Esti. You must be so proud. Where is he tonight, with Dovid?” I queried.

“No, my friend Tina is taking care of him. She teaches fourth grade at my school. She’s become like a sister to me in the past couple years, and Caleb is like the nephew she’s never had. She takes care of him for free, she says she’s paid in giggles and snuggles. I feel so fortunate.”

At that moment our dapper waiter sidled up, depositing the two beers in front of us with a flourish. I grabbed the bottle in front of me almost as soon as it hit the table, taking a hearty swig. “Good choice, Esti, I love Singha. I actually took a tour of the brewery ages ago when I was working a shoot in Thailand.”

“Wow, Thailand… that’s amazing. The closest I’ve made it to Thailand is...here,” Esti gestured around the restaurant with a giggle.

I blushed as I reflected how little opportunity she’d enjoyed to travel, encouraging my foot to make its way to my mouth. “You’ll make it there someday! And when you do I’ll be first in line to play travel agent for you.”

She gave a cryptic snort in response. “Thanks, Ronit. Speaking of traveling, are you here in London alone?”

I wondered at her motive in asking this question, suspecting she might have just initiated a fishing expedition into my personal life. I had already determined on the plane ride over that I would not reveal my relationship status immediately but would eventually fully explain my unorthodox (no pun intended) romantic situation.

“Kinda sorta. My colleague Nigel and I flew over together and will be working Fashion Week together most days. We get on well but considering we see each other almost every day at home it’s not like we’ll be riding the London Eye on each other’s laps or anything.”

“Makes sense to me! Where are you staying?” 

“My company leases a flophouse of sorts in Islington, so Nigel and I are crashing there for now. After Fashion Week ends I’m planning on moving to a Kensington hotel for a few days to wallow in the luxury of 800-thread count Egyptian sheets and maybe leave the hotel a handful of times for curry and fish and chips.”

“Great idea to award yourself some R&R! If you want some company for that curry and fish and chips let me know- my favorite Indian restaurant in the entire city is on my block in Harrow. And you could come meet Caleb, too,” Esti proposed.

“I’d like that very much. I’m so curious and excited to meet your darling Minime! He and I can talk all about, uh, mamas, and moo cows, and babas- and any other words he might know."

Esti quickly looked down at her beer and then stared searingly into my eyes. “I know you’ve never met Caleb, Ronit, but I feel like a part of you has been with him since his birth.”

I took a moment to respond to this impassioned remark, her cobalt eyes searching my face for a reaction. “What a sweet thing to say, Esti. I really do look forward to making the acquaintance of such a worthy gentleman,” I quipped, intentionally skirting her intensity.

A cloud of disappointed obscured her face for an instant but was quickly replaced by an evasive smile. 

As our dinner arrived and she served me before dishing her own food I felt myself rent in conflicting directions. I experienced some guilt at deflecting her multiple attempts to intimately connect with me, but it was for both of our benefits. My practical, no-nonsense side neither wanted to accidentally lead her on nor dismantle my barriers and set myself up for heartbreak afresh.  
However, as I snuck glances at Esti’s ethereal face between bites of noodles and rice the raging id in me that I worked so hard to control longed to knock the plates off the table, throw her down, and allow her tongue to devour me completely once again. I could see the hint of her cleavage peeking out of her scoop neck dress as she bent her head over her food, and this discovery banged on the door housing my dubious defenses. 

“Ronit, you’ll never be able to truly shake this one,” a persistent voice echoed inside my brain. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I have to give in. Just like Carly Simon I haven’t got time for the pain. I’ve got a week’s worth of models to shoot,” I shot back. “Esti was my first love, but it doesn’t mean she also has to be my last love. I have all the hot sex I could want with a happy-go-lucky person who feeds on Michelin starred food, not drama.”

During the time that I was conversing with myself Esti had covertly shifted her chair from its place across from me to right next to my own perch. “I hear they sit like this in Paris. I haven’t been yet, but I figure it’s never too early to begin… le practicing,” she explained, fluttering her lush eyelashes. 

“You’re right, they do, especially in the outdoor cafes. They’re such a personal people, far different from us aloof Brits,” I replied. 

She shyly slid her chair closer to mine, stopping only when the legs collided against one another. “Ronit, I know it’s been a couple of years since we spoke- really spoke with one another. And, well, there are some really important things I need to divulge to you.”

My heart convulsed against my ribs at this statement. What did she want to communicate to me? And couldn’t it wait until we became further reacquainted- or at the very least until I had consumed another Singha or two? Or two Singhas and a highball of Sangsom rum?

“Ah, sure, of course, Esti. We can talk about anything you’d like. As soon as I, erhm, return from a brief loo break. I started drinking coffee this morning at my apartment in Alphabet City and didn’t stop until I buzzed up to this restaurant,” I stammered, trying valiantly to de-sexyify myself.

Popping up from my chair I darted to the toilet, in dire need of some breathing room to prepare for what promised to be some intense confessions and/or questions. I remained in the loo for over five minutes, absently reapplying mascara and lipstick until I looked almost like a garish caricature of myself. I spent the next couple minutes wiping some of my unintentional abstract art off of my face. 

As I made my way back to the table I glimpsed Esti glancing peculiarly at my glowing phone, which I had left nearly directly in front of her. I cursed myself for consistently forgetting to turn the text preview function off, meaning that anyone in my phone’s vision could view my incoming messages. I followed Esti’s eyes to witness an array of lovey-dovey emojis dancing across the screen: two faces blowing a kiss, a red heart, and the New York City skyline. Dropping down apprehensively into my seat I awaited the question I knew would be forthcoming.

“Ronit, I guess it’s not really my business, but… who is Abi?” Esti inquired, a tremble piercing her melodic tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me during a month of crickets! I've had some obligations that have kept me from writing lately- plus some uncertainties about my fanfic writing capabilities- but it's my plan to keep up with this story for at least several more chapters, as it's fun to write. In particular, I want to portray a version of Ronit from the perspective of how I would feel were I in her shoes.


	6. Chapter 6

As I awaited Ronit’s return from the loo I briskly rehearsed my upcoming lines in my head. 

“Ronit, I know that we parted on very ambiguous terms two years ago and that I must have left you feeling deeply confused about what I wanted. I shouldn’t have been so passive when you professed your love to me but I didn’t yet have the agency and self-possession that I do now to take charge of my life’s direction and happiness. I loved you then, and I love you now, but the major difference is that I’ve found the courage and wherewithal to live it out. If…”

My run-through was interrupted by a flash ignited by Ronit’s mobile, which rested directly between our two dinner plates. I had no inclination to violate her privacy, but my eyes helplessly tuned in to the message illuminated directly within my line of vision. There were no words, only tiny illustrations from a sender called Abi: two kissy faces, a heart, and an evening city skyline. These pictures spoke louder to me than a thousand words. 

At that moment I knew that my speech- my entire plan- was wholly jeopardized. Ronit had moved on from me, just as I had dreaded, and had fallen for another woman. Her name was Abi and she just sent her sweetheart, Ronit, kisses and love from their shared home of New York. Aghast, I leaned back in my chair, the color draining from my face, my eyes glued to the mobile screen until it bled out of focus.

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t spy Ronit approaching until she had resumed her position next to me. She glanced at her gleaming mobile and then at my drawn face. I perceived her body tightening with agitation as she waited for me to break the ice. 

“Ronit, I guess it’s not really my business, but... who is Abi?” I quavered. “Is she your… are you… in love?”

Visibly shaken and clearly not expecting this scenario, Ronit exhaled anxiously, her shapely hands fumbling with the hem of her red pencil skirt.

“I was going to tell you about her, Esti, I swear. I just, wanted, needed, some time to recharge and reconnect after my arrival here. Abi has been, is, my girlfriend,” Ronit mumbled, her churning eyes refusing to meet mine. 

“For how long?” I murmured.

“Mm, about nine months. We’re in an open relationship.”

Sensing my palpable confusion about this term she dove cautiously into an explanation.

“We’re open. In our particular case it means that we can see other people if we choose, either casually or form a serious romantic relationship with them. Abi herself has a longtime live-in girlfriend.”

“And you’re amenable to that arrangement?” I inquired, my lips pursed in shock. “I didn’t even think that you… saw other women casually, let alone stockpiled girlfriends.”

“I didn’t date women for many years,” she earnestly replied. “And I wasn’t actively looking for this type of relationship- or any serious relationship, to be completely honest. It just, sort of fell into my lap, I don’t know how to explain it any better. Our arrangement is unconventional but it’s suitable to both of our current needs and desires.”

“Do you have other girlfriends or boyfriends the way she does?”

“God, no. Anyway, my boyfriend is my Leica M10.”

“Your what?”

“Oh, my favorite camera. I mean, I have neither the time nor the interest in pursuing multiple romantic relationship, regardless of gender.”  
“And how did you and Abi meet?” I continued, wondering why I opted to embark upon a path marked with torment for me.

“You might have a hard time believing this, but at a synagogue in the West Village, a neighborhood in New York famous for its LGBTQ history and activism. It’s a Reform synagogue, night and day from the environment we grew up in. I’m somewhat limited in the services I can attend because of my work schedule, but I’ve found some real solace in belonging to such an open-minded and supportive Jewish community. If only we’d had that experience as kids instead, Esti, maybe we would have…” Ronit abruptly cut herself off before she could finish her sentence. 

“Maybe we would have...what?!” I silently urged her. But I opted for a different tack. “I see. What’s she like, this girl of the two girlfriends?” I spoke with what I considered a healthy amount of snark.

“Uh, let’s see. Abi is 38 years old, she’s an acupuncturist…” 

“Acupuncturist? You mean she sticks needles in people for sport as her job- after inspecting their tongues first. What’s that about, some new age alternative to telling one’s future from a reading of their palms?”

“It’s not for sport! It’s an effective treatment for a wide variety of medical and behavioral health conditions.”

“Um, okay. You might change your tune if she decides to bring her work home with her. Tell me more.”

“What do you really want to know about her, Esti? She has short, blonde hair, she’s from a small village in Nebraska with a bigger population of corn cobs than humans…”

I interrupted her haphazard description of Abi 101. Frankly, I didn’t give two shits about the color of her hair or the number of vegetables in her hometown. “There’s actually only one thing I really do want to know about Abi, Ronit. And it’s more about you than about her.” 

Remembering that she had dodged my initial line of inquiry I attempted once again to find out what I longed to discover. I couldn’t find peace until I was confident that I had exhausted all possible avenues in pursuing a romantic relationship with my deep-rooted soulmate. “You didn’t answer my original question. Are you in love with Abi?” I pressed, tears threatening to spill over my lashes. 

Her reply was not immediate. This gave me a modicum of hope, as she had to mull over my question. I myself, au contraire, was definitively in love and if anyone asked me if I was I would respond in the affirmative within the blink of an eye.  
Sensing Ronit’s hesitation to move forward on the matter and not wanting to isolate her from me so soon after our tenuous reunion I reluctantly threw an olive branch of sorts her way. 

“Nevermind, Ronit, don’t feel pressured to answer that right now. I realize it’s a very intimate question, and you must be exhausted after only landing in London this morning. I know you have a jam-packed week of work ahead of you. This can wait.”

Relief blossomed across her radiant face as the burden of a question toeing the line of an ultimatum was lifted from her- at least for the time being. 

“You’re right, Esti, I’m absolutely knackered- and I have a 7am call time tomorrow in Westminster. I’m sincerely unprepared- not unwilling- to have a conversation of this emotional magnitude tonight,” Ronit acknowledged. 

“I understand,” I replied, my nerves bubbling as I grudgingly accepted the fact that additional waiting would be required. Years of interactions with Ronit had demonstrated how resolutely she could stand her ground: and shut down wholly if anyone attempted to trespass. It was critically important for me to respect her reticence and bide my time: at least until Fashion Week ended. 

I must have looked tolerably miserable, because when I looked up she began caressing me with her soft eyes. “Esti, listen,” she spoke gently. “I’ll be working a double tomorrow, but would you want to come meet me for lunch near 180 Strand- Fashion Week headquarters- on Sunday?”

“Yes, I could make that work, but I’d have to bring Caleb with me, as I don’t have any childcare options that day,” I replied.

“Oh yes, please do bring him! I’m sorry that he won’t be able to partake in a delicious lunch of falafel sandwiches with us. I may or may not have brought him a States-side surprise that I guessed would tickle his fancy.”

“You...brought Caleb a gift?” I echoed, my sunken heart lifting slightly in my chest. 

“Don’t get too excited. It’s not a free ride to college or anything! Although I guess you lucky Brits who opted to remain Brits practically already get that,” she joked. 

Before I could lose my courage I plucked my right hand from its position on the table and placed it on her left hand. I moved with some minor trepidation, as I was wary of pushing her beyond the evening’s boundaries. Unsure how she would behave in response I patiently awaited her reaction. Much to my delight she lightly lifted her fingers, pressing them up into my hand. I took the ball and ran with it, entwining my fingers neatly between the spaces of her own fingers. We sat like that for several moments in comfortable stillness until the waiter returned to present us with the bill. 

She was the first to break our hand embrace, deftly reaching into her handbag for her wallet. “Esti, please let me; thank you for choosing a delicious restaurant for us in such an exciting part of town. I never would have known to come up here on my own; when I left England this place was like one giant, rusty shipping container.”

“Thank you, Ronit, that’s very kind of you. Lunch on Sunday will be my treat, then! Yes, I like this neighborhood a lot. It takes over an hour to get here on the bus from my flat in Harrow, but it’s worth it. Caleb and I visit once or twice a month to take long strolls along the canal. Personally I think the most fascinating ducks in the city choose to make this neighborhood their home- and that’s no small factor in Caleb’s world.”

“I loved watching ducks when I was a kid, too. My mom used to take me to feed them in that little pond in the northwest pocket of Hendon, you know the place. Once my mom died, though, the Rav considered himself far too busy with his books to be bothered with taking his daughter on waterfowl frolics,” she responded, the pain of the past rearing up from the place within her that she tried so mightily to shroud.

“I’m sorry that was your parental experience, Ronit. You were dealt such a rough hand. If it makes you feel any better, Caleb and I would be happy to feed and/or view ducks and other avians any time you’d like. We’d even provide the bread,” I offered, gingerly placing my arm on her shoulder. 

Pressing her crimson lips together she bashfully blew me a kiss. “Thank you, sweet Esti.”

I reflexively parted my lips slightly to catch her air kiss, but she didn’t see, as she had moved on to settling up our bill. 

“I’m sorry to call it such an early night, but I haven’t slept in 24 hours and still have to prep for tomorrow’s events,” Ronit said, stifling a languorous yawn. “But you and Caleb will come meet me for a late lunch on Sunday in Westminster?”

“Yes, absolutely. Once you poke around the neighborhood a bit text me a time and a place and we’ll be there. I’ll even dress him in his fanciest of dress: a duck-hooded zip-up.”

Ronit giggled and leaned in closer to me. “Where did you purchase such a gem? Do you think the shop sells them in adult women’s sizes?” 

I smirked and playfully elbowed her in the ribs. She quacked cheerfully in response, her jubilance pouring over me like a restorative sunbath. 

“Ronit, I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea,” I sighed into her ear, wishing I could remove the onyx black earrings dangling there and replace it with tender kisses. 

“But I do have an idea, Esti. Let’s make a pact right now to keep in closer touch. Our friendship is so precious to me.”

Despite the intended sweetness of her statement the word “friendship” caused a bitter taste to appear in my mouth. Yes, we were certainly lifelong friends, and friends we would ostensibly remain as long as this Abi was in the picture. Ronit would only be in London for ten days; in less than a fortnight she would be gone from my life yet again, only this time she clearly would not be imploring me to move back to New York with her. I didn’t want to be a homewrecker, but I wouldn’t have to be, because she had told me herself that she and Abi were free to do anything ranging from fucking to marrying another person, it seemed. Only… I’m not the type to share a woman with another woman. 

This was far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your kind comments following my hiatus! I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Expect another one by early next week.


	7. Chapter 7

I stood indecisively on Esti’s doorstep, split between an urge to bang down the door and an urge to hightail it for the hills. Yesterday during our brief lunch she had invited me to dinner the following evening at her home in Harrow, a peacefully residential borough northwest of London’s city center. I found myself immediately accepting the invitation, without giving even a moment’s hesitation to a scenario involving the two of us sequestered in a private home. 

Most of lunchtime’s conversation had been centered on Caleb, a strikingly beautiful and placid little individual. Although it was only our first time meeting and he was approaching the tender age of stranger danger he grinned and waved his roly-poly arms up at me like we were old army buddies, inviting me in for a cuddle. Kids, particularly babies, never had that ice cream melting effect on me that seemed inherent to so many other adults. Here was an exception, though: the only child of the only person who had ever received a declaration of love from me. 

“Ronit, girl, calm down,” I snapped to myself, gritting my teeth as I continued to vacillate before the doorbell. “Esti didn’t say it back to you, remember? She hasn’t said those three little words since she saw your father hastily escorting you into a taxi at age nineteen from her bedroom window, tattered suitcase clenched in your hands and tears gripping your eyes. She kept frantically yelling, ‘I love you’ out of the window, not giving a rat’s ass what anyone within earshot thought except for you. You echoed love back to her repeatedly, like a mantra, until your father nearly pushed you into the car and closed the door, handing the driver a wad of cash and gruffly instructing him to take you to Heathrow.” 

The pain of this disquieting memory combined with my nerves to keep me glued to the stoop. Finally, after about ten minutes of indecision I was awoken from my daze by the gentle groan of the front door. “Ronit, I’ve been watching you for the past few minutes from the kitchen window. Err, don’t you want to come inside? Or were you hoping to dine al fresco on the stairs of my apartment building?” Esti questioned, eyebrows arched in bewilderment.

“Oh, yes, of course,” I stammered, fumbling for another one of my excuses. “Hello, Esti. I, uh, wasn’t sure which buzzer was yours, I was just about to call you.”

Esti shot me a skeptically bemused gaze but didn’t say anything further, instead stepping by to allow me to walk inside. I followed up her two flights of stairs into an unassuming but comfy apartment. Sinking down onto a dark grey couch she nodded at me to do the same. 

From my vantage point next to her I tried to slyly examine her profile without her noticing. She was wearing tight black jeans and a black and white striped v-neck shirt, and no jewelry save a necklace that looked startingly familiar. Leaning closer I squinted my eyes to discern the necklace’s charm, widening them in disbelief as recognition washed over me. 

“Esti! That’s… the necklace I gave you for your 19th birthday. The last birthday that we spent together…” I murmured. “I can’t believe that you still have it.”

“Have it?” Esti chuckled softly. “Ronit, I have worn it nearly every day since you gave it to me over fifteen years ago. Other than the memories it’s the closest I’ve had to keeping a part of you with me throughout the years.”

I swallowed at the intensity of her words and at the glaring realization that her passion for me still burned this bright. “But what about when you were married to Dovid? Surely he couldn’t have approved of you wearing jewelry from me, your illicit lesbian lover?” I queried.

“He never asked about the necklace’s origins. Either he was uninterested or just didn’t want to know,” Esti replied. “There was so much simmering under the surface of our identities that Dovid and I never addressed in our many years as a couple… we really had such a superficial emotional connection.”

“I remember how excited I was to give you that necklace,” I recalled, perhaps against my better judgment. “I’d saved up money I made from my job at the flower shop for months, stashing a pound here and there at the back of my underwear drawer. I knew if my father found my cash stash he would have incited me to donate it to the shul.”

“It was the best gift I ever received,” Esti murmured, slowly fingering the necklace with her right hand as her cobalt eyes bore into mine.

“Ah, well, I’m glad you liked it so much. It looked so good on you, and still does,” I responded, mustering the stalwart strength needed to break such a compelling gaze. 

“I brought a bottle of chardonnay to drink with dinner, it’s so universally popular that I felt I couldn’t go wrong.” I said, consciously changing the topic.

“Thank you, that sounds perfect. I cooked roasted salmon with lemon dill sauce and braised long beans with garlic.”

“Damn, Esti, that sounds incredible, thank you. I usually just microwave an Amy’s frozen dinner when I eat at home, which isn’t very often!” I cracked.

“It’s my pleasure, Ronit. It feels like such a celebration to be spending time with you again. I also made a banoffee pie for dessert, I figured you don’t get many opportunities to eat this delicacy of our homeland in the States!”

“Right you are, Esti. Do you have a spare hankerchief? My mouth is officially watering uncontrollably.”

She shot me a warm smile and wheeled around, inviting me to join her in the kitchen. I couldn’t help but check her out from behind as she strode across the cozy living room, noticing how the snug skinny jeans clung to her shapely ass. I felt my mouth open and quietly let out a puff of air, hoping she didn’t hear my lustful sigh. 

I poured us two generous goblets of white wine as she put the finishing touches on dinner, the scrumptious aroma of the salmon filling my nostrils. “Caleb already in bed?” I asked. “I wished my work schedule had allowed me to come earlier, I so enjoyed meeting him yesterday. I would have loved to have read him one of the books I brought him.”

“Actually, he’s with Dovid and his wife, Sara, tonight. He usually sleeps over their house once a week or so. As for the books… thank you again. I think it’s sweet that you gave him New York themed books, particularly ‘Good Night New York City.’ I know this is unrelated, but it reminds me of the many times I spent imagining you getting ready for bed and snuggling off to sleep in your room in New York.”

Esti had shared a similar stirring memory of tracking the time zone differences between the two of us over two years ago, and I felt my heart begin to waver in its vigilance. She was being so forthcoming with her feelings and reminiscences, and I was struck by her emotional bravery, particularly in the face of my obvious wariness. In such an open and safe environment there was no need for me to be so withholding, was there?

Inspired to offer up some of my own vulnerability in return, I gingerly presented her with the truth. “I had that in mind when I selected that book in particular, Esti. I envisioned you reading “Good Night New York City” to Caleb after I returned to the States, and I took joy in the idea of you thinking of me before you closed your eyes for the day. I imagined you reading about my adopted home city to your child, who I felt a bond with since the day I learned about your pregnancy, the day after we last made love.” 

I paused in my confession and instinctively covered my mouth with my hand, uncertain if I had unfairly crossed a boundary. I had a girlfriend, after all, and even though we were in an open relationship I did not want to toy with Esti in any manner.

“I’m sorry, Esti. I shouldn’t be saying these things,” I stuttered.

“Why not?” She inquired, running an index finger from the top of my bare shoulder to the place where my wrist met my hand.

Shivering uncontrollably at her soft but powerful touch I grasped for a response. “Well, because… I have a girlfriend. And I don’t want to… ruin our friendship.”

“Ah, there’s that word again. Friendship. Ronit, I’m going to ask you the same question I asked the other day, but this time I want an answer. I deserve one, after all that we’ve been through over the years.”

“O-okay. What do you want to know?” I concurred, although I knew exactly what she desired to learn.

“Are you… in love with Abi?” She whispered close to my ear, her warm breath caressing my face.

I didn’t respond at first, cautiously weighing my options. I did feel love for Abi, how could I not? But I believed that I loved her in the lusty and affectionate way one can adore a sexy and fun best friend. It was far from the consuming and timeless ardor I felt for Esti, which I had to accept was virtually intrinsic to my nature. But I also feared expressing or giving into this passion again, because the last time I had broken down my resistance to this connection it had been severed almost immediately. 

Esti was correct, though, I did owe her an answer, especially considering the fact that I had been so distant about my relationship with Abi. “Abi and I… we have a lot of fun together. And we get on really well,” I began. “But I’ve never told her that I loved her, and she hasn’t said it to me, either. She has a primary partner, anyway, and it doesn’t bother me in the least. The only person I’ve ever said those words to in my entire life is you, Esti. And I meant it. But I didn’t know what to think last time, because… in the taxi… you didn’t…”

She cut me off at that moment with her mouth, her lips affixed to mine, her hands tangling through my hair, her inherent need causing my knees to quiver. I kissed her back hungrily, my mind immediately cleared of everything save the springing of an unquenched desire for her. Without warning she pulled back from our fiery embrace, her eyes blazing with an icy fire. “Ronit, I did love you. It’s always been you, it is now, and it will still be you when you go home later this week. When we were in the taxi… I thought it would be easier for you to leave if you didn’t hear me say it, but I know that I made a mistake. So please hear me now: I love you, Ronit.”

Overwhelmed by her resolute admission I wrapped my hands around her neck and coaxed her lips back to their place directly on mine. My tongue traced her bottom and then top lip, as I used physical expression to convey the complex emotions that verbal expression could not temporarily explain. 

“Ronit, do you trust me?” She whispered intently.

“Trust you…? Yes, of course, what do you mean?” I hazily replied, dreamingly lifting up her right hand and popping her second and third fingers into my mouth without a single blink. Although I had tried mightily to maintain my resolve I knew the time to surrender had arrived, and it felt nothing but sweet. 

“To take over from here,” she murmured, removing her fingers from my mouth and running them down my chest in the direction of my core. 

“God. Yes. I’m… I’m all yours,” I gasped, wriggling at her touch and the thought that she wanted to be in control.

“Good. Follow me,” she delicately commanded, standing up swiftly. She turned off the oven and placed an overflowing plate of vegetables in the refrigerator. “I’ve decided that we’ll eat later.” 

Staring directly into my eyes she slowly lifted her shirt up to just where the swell of her breasts started. I gaped thirstily at her taut ivory stomach, blindly reaching out a hand to caress her. She quickly swatted my arm away and pulled her shirt down again. “You’ll touch me when I tell you to,” she gently chastised. “I’ll do what I want to you and you’ll do what I tell you to do to me.”

The assertive tone and meaning of her words floored me, and I felt my lower half throb with fervor. I had craved this type of treatment for so long, and no one but Esti had ever thought to offer it to me, or that I would have even wanted it. She was the only person who saw right through me… right into me. 

“Okay… yes, please. I want that, I want it so much,” I moaned. 

“If at any point you want me to stop just say the word ‘red,” she stated, nipping my neck with her full, pink lips.

“I won’t want you to stop,” I groaned. “Esti… damn. What have you been… reading? Or watching?”

She smirked. “That’s for me to know… and for you to find out. Now, stop asking questions!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your kudos and comments. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! Seeing the movie several times made me think Esti has a real desire to be in charge and has been suppressed in it for so long, and so I incorporated it into her character in my story.


	8. Chapter 8

Esti silently led the way into her bedroom, gesturing to me to take a seat on the edge of her queen bed. I reclined on the edge in suspense, watching her disappear into a walk-in closet. She emerged a few minutes later in an entirely different outfit, having traded her casual striped shirt and jeans for a form-fitting boatneck black dress. Immediately I felt the sensation of my nipples hardening as I experienced a thrilling side of Esti I had never before seen.

Leaning against the wall she folded her arms and purred, “I want you to remove all of your clothes, except for your underwear and heels.” 

Swallowing loudly I nodded my assent, quickly shedding my red and white polkadot sheath dress and sheer strapless bra. She watched me with an impassive expression on her face, arms still casually folded. 

“Come over here,” she instructed, languidly beckoning to me. 

I bolted to my feet on the double, eager to learn what she had in store for me. We hadn’t even exchanged a physical touch since we entered her bedroom, yet I could already feel myself soaking through my lace briefs. 

“Stop right there!” Esti directed.

I froze, confused as to how to proceed. “Not on your feet. On your hands and knees,” she murmured, smirking seductively. 

My mouth dropped open and my cheeks burned with anticipation. I couldn’t believe this was happening, it was out of one of my most private and most unexpected fantasies. Our earlier years of lovemaking must have clued Esti in to my submissive yearnings; I had recollections of requesting her to hold my arms down while she kissed me from above. Nothing had quite prepared me for these actions of hers, though. 

I got down on all fours as instructed and slowly crawled over to her. “Get up,” she told me, looking down with a sly smile.

I rose slowly, keeping my unblinking eyes fastened to hers. She stared at me for what seemed like ages but was probably only twenty seconds. Without warning she grabbed hold of my naked waist and spun me around with all her might, guiding my back against the wall. I sighed in contentment, my utterings quickly quieted by her hand over my mouth. “Do you want to fuck me?” she hissed into my ear.

“Y-yes, fuck yes,” I responded, my voice thick with need.

“Yes what?”

“Yes… Yes, Esti, I want to fuck you so badly I can hardly stand it, I can hardly even stand up,” I rasped.

“I thought so,” she snickered, running her hands over my breasts but intentionally ignoring my nipples. 

I quivered at her teasing strokes, wishing desperately for her lips on mine. As if she read my mind she swiftly moved her mouth in the direction of mine, stopping about only a centimeter away. At this point I was sheerly incapable of containing my ache for her, visibly squirming under her active hands. I could feel her hot breath gust onto my lips, and after much patience on my end was finally rewarded with a blazing kiss. 

As I felt her tongue graze my lips insistently I imagined Esti marking me as hers, and this thought turned me on even more. She continued to lick and bite my lips, simultaneously kneading my breasts with both hands. I knew better than to beg her to move her hands further down; she would make the trip herself when she was good and ready, if I was lucky. 

After a delicious series of red-hot kisses Esti pulled both her hands and mouth off of me, backing up several paces. “Switch spots with me,” she said.

I complied instantly, and we reversed positions. She pulled the cushion off a nearby chair and threw it on the ground in front of me. “Get on your knees,” she commanded.

After I had assumed a kneeling position Esti leaned up against the wall. She hiked up her dress to her waist and I dizzily realized she wasn’t wearing anything under it. “I want you to lick my pussy,” she bid, opening her lips and offering herself to my open mouth. 

I didn’t have to be told twice, and raised myself higher up onto my knees. I gently spread her legs further apart, and began lapping her core. Much to my delight she was as soaked as I felt myself to be, and I couldn’t help but groan softly into her wetness as I massaged her folds with my flat tongue. She tasted so incredible, I never wanted to stop, and I silently questioned my decision to withhold this from us both for so long. I dug my manicured fingernails into her backside, a move that rewarded me with a flurry of small gasps.

“Ronit, put your tongue inside,” she rasped. 

I ceased working her clit and slowly trailed my tongue further back. Stopping at her slit I began thrusting my tongue inside of her, driving in and out of her as I would with my fingers. I was gifted with a long tongue, and worked it persistently much to both Esti’s and my advantage. Her legs began to tremble as I continued to fuck her with my tongue. She pressed her back harder against the wall in an increasingly difficult attempt to hold herself upright. I was tempted to replace my tongue with two of three fingers and pound her until she came, but refrained as I recalled our initial agreement. I would only change positions if I was told to do so by my top. 

“My clit, lick my clit, now,” Esti growled, opening her legs even wider and drawing back a foot from the wall to allow me better access to her front. I tilted my head further up and initiated an exquisite onslaught onto her clit with my tongue. I traced circles clockwise, then counterclockwise, increasing my pace to align with the rapidity of her moans. 

My own core was on fire; I felt that if either of us had even touched me with just the tip of one finger I would instantly have a shattering orgasm. Willing my full attention back to pleasuring Esti I continued to lick her with all of my energy until with a jolting voice she murmured, “Ronit, I’m going to come, go harder, please don’t stop.” 

I squeezed my eyes shut as I processed the raw intensity of her words, looking up with awe at the ardor burning across her beautiful face. Crying out loudly she became rigid, her core spasming around my tongue as she reached a powerful and long-awaited climax. 

“Ronit, Ronit,” she whimpered, repeating my name, letting go of the wall with one hand and reaching back to pull my hair as she came down from her high.

“Fuck, Esti,” I breathed, my mouth still fastened onto her cunt as I excitedly attempted to lap up all of her.

It suddenly became too much for her, and she took her hand out of my hair and gently pushed my head away. I moved back, my hands still gripping her ass, and shyly awaited her next move. 

“Stand up,” she whispered, taking a moment to collect herself and reestablish her dominance. A look of sublime pleasure beamed from her eyes into mine. 

As I made my way shakily to my feet she held out her arms with an enraptured smile. I timidly entered her embrace, basking in the feeling of her lithe arms wrapped around my back. She laid her head on my shoulder and lightly stroked my bare back with her fingertips. I waited with bated breath for her to speak, wondering what laid ahead next for us on this remarkable evening.

“That was… Wow. Ronit,” Esti exclaimed, tracing a path down my back with her hands. She continued to move down, massaging my hips expertly as she nibbled my earlobe. I threw my head back with want, arching into her touch in suspense. Suddenly without warning she stopped and stepped away from me.

“Are you hungry, too? I worked up such an appetite there. Time to eat dinner,” she announced, much to my surprise. 

She must have registered shock in my eyes, because she began to titter as she strode toward the bedroom door. “Let’s go,” she reiterated with a half smile, her dimples flashing coyly at me. “And don’t even dare to touch yourself on the walk over! You’ll regret it if you do.”

I crossed my legs and nodded, cognizant that if I didn’t obey these instructions the likelihood of Esti later relieving the throbbing in between them was not high. As much as I ached to come now I was deeply aroused by how the evening had enrolled thus far, and knew that holding out would only serve to amplify my orgasm later on, were I fortunate enough for Esti to decide I would receive one. 

Bending down I picked up my bra and dress, preparing to cover myself up for dinner. Esi swept over before I could make any headway in dressing, grabbing both clothing items out of my hands. “Oh, you won’t need these back until later,” she tantalized. “Come as you are.”

I giggled as I envisioned myself sitting at the dinner table in nothing save underwear and black heels, but did what I was told, following her into the kitchen. She casually pulled out the kitchen chair nearest to her and flopped down. “Ronit, the salmon is in the oven and the vegetables are in the refrigerator. Heat them up and then plate us some food.” 

Looking pleased with herself Esti picked up a magazine laying on the table and began reading. I hurriedly followed her instructions, exploring the kitchen until I found everything that I needed to serve dinner. I refilled our wine glasses, pointedly leaning over her with the bottle so that my chest was nearly at her eye level. She had been fascinated by my breasts since we were teenagers, always wanting her hands or mouth on them; clearly this was a surefire means of encouraging her to pleasure me. Ignoring my unsubtle hints she continued to read, looking up only to reach for her glass. 

After I finished assembling our dinner I carried a plate laden with food over to where she sat. Placing the dish in front of Esti I stood next to her chair awkwardly, uncertain of how to proceed. Putting the magazine down she tapped the wooden back of the chair next to her. “Get yourself a plate of food that looks identical to mine and then come sit here.”

Glancing over at her dinner I hastily served myself equal portions of fish and vegetables, blushing as I felt her eyes acutely track the movements of my nearly naked form. For all intents and purposes Esti herself was fully clothed; only I knew about the lack of undergarments beneath her dress. 

Ever the paragmon of politeness -- even when explicitly in charge -- Esti had waited for me to join her at the table before commencing to eat her food. I continued to follow her lead, refraining from taking a bite until she tucked into the salmon. After she had taken a few mouthfuls she put down her fork and knife, a serious expression crossing her face. 

“Ronit. How is this going for you? Is it okay, do you want to keep going?” Esti questioned, lightly stroking my cheek with her thumb.

“Yes, I do. Esti, this is so indescribably sexy. Thank you for sharing this part of yourself with me, it satisfies a hunger that I never thought I’d be able to satiate. There's so much I want to explore about this part of myself... with you,” I disclosed.

She sighed contentedly at my response, quickly pecked my cheek, and resumed eating her dinner. After both of our plates were clean she lazily stretched her arms over her head, temporarily lost in thought. She exited her reverie almost as quickly as she had entered it, turning to me in earnest. 

“Ronit, I want you to go into my bedroom and open the top drawer of my dresser. There should be two silk scarves toward the back of the drawer. Take them out and bring them back here to me. And be snappy about it.” With that she folded her arms and mischievously arched an eyebrow at me. 

My mouth grew dry and my eyes hooded with desire as I mulled over this command. I was tempted to pinch myself, in order to discern if I was actually somehow fortunate enough for this to really be happening to me. Esti cocked her head in the direction of the doorway leading back to her bedroom, prompting me to set off on my next task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan was to hold off on publishing this new chapter for several days in order to expand it into a bigger chapter, but comments from some faithful readers inspired me to publish the first half today! Why wait?


	9. Chapter 9

As I waited for Ronit to return from my bedroom with the scarves I pensively sipped the small amount of chardonnay left floating in the wide glass. I had daydreamed about how I would behave in a situation like this too many times to count; now that it had somewhat shockingly arrived I couldn’t believe how natural it felt, like I’d nonchalantly been ordering her to strip and set the table for ages. It felt so organic to me that I couldn’t even feel surprised at how comfortably I had slipped into such an assertive role. It turned out that my hypothesis about Ronit’s longing to be controlled had been correct; moreso than I’d even imagined.

My voluptuous musings were interrupted by the tentative clicking of Ronit’s stilettos treading across the laminate kitchen floor. Her statuesque physique and profile took my breath away, and I made no attempt to shield it from her. We had hidden our feelings and desires far too much for far too long; tonight everything would be free to be released out into the open. A mix of vulnerability and thirst emanated from her persona, nearly blinding me as I struggled to compose myself. 

Remaining seated I held out a hand. “Good, you found them. Bring them to me.”

Smiling at my reaction to her completion of the assigned task Ronit scurried over, carefully placing the two navy blue silk scarves into my outstretched hand. Before she could remove her hand from the exchange I grasped it with my own and, gazing directly into her chestnut eyes, guided both our hands to the skimpy crotch of her briefs. Keeping my hand on top I used it to control hers, which I had begun to slowly rub against her core through the fabric. Gulping sharply she began to tremble, and, after placing the scarves onto the table, I wrapped my other arm around her waist to help keep her upright. 

Gauging her reaction to this touch I determined that if I didn’t stop within the next minute or so Ronit would be brought to orgasm, and at this point so early on in our reunion I would not tolerate one with such little fanfare. As I extracted both of our hands away from her core I heard her utter a low groan of protest. “Esti…” she sputtered. 

“Yes, Ronit?” I retorted with a simper, my hands flying to my hips. 

“Umm, nevermind,” she responded, remembering how it would behoove her not to question my words or actions.

“Sit down,” I told her, pointing at the nearest kitchen chair. It was a black highback chair with five vertical slats, surprisingly comfortable for a wooden chair with no padding. 

Sinking into the chair Ronit picked up her wine glass, which was still half full. She chugged the rest of the liquid in a few large draughts. After swallowing the last drop she asked me if I had any more. 

Shaking my head I responded, “No, unfortunately, but I can go out and buy some. I just have to do one thing here first.”

With a flourish I lifted one of the glossy scarves up from the table. Looking down at Ronit I directed, “Take off your underwear. Then put your arms behind you and grasp the middle slat with both fists. Make sure to sit up straight.”

Her cheeks pinkening Ronit wordlessly followed my instructions. As she bent over to remove her briefs I stifled a whimper that was begging for release from my throat. Although I ostensibly was the one in control in this situation it required the bulk of my self-control to continue drawing out this intense seduction. 

Walking up behind her I took the first scarf and with a firm knot tied her left hand to the middle slat. After I had ensured that it was secure I retrieved the other scarf and proceeded to tie her other hand to the chair. As I admired my handiwork I felt myself getting wet between my legs, reveling in my decision to forgo panties. 

Ronit was now completely exposed to me, physically and emotionally, and the sensation was causing exposions in my brain, heart, and pussy. Her entire body and visage begged to be touched, from her warm brown eyes to her firm breasts, which jutted out alluringly from the angle at which she sat. My mouth hung open in transfixion as I took a few moments to absorb the magnetic sight before me. 

“Ronit,” I finally managed to stammer. “Ronit… where’s your wallet?”

“My wallet?” She echoed, her brows furrowed in perplexity. “It’s in my handbag, on your couch. Why do you ask?”

“Thank you, I’ll go get it,” I replied. Marching into the living room I unzipped the handbag and pulled out a handsome COACH wallet. Opening the wallet I reached into the cash compartment, yanking out a wad of notes. Flipping through them I pulled out a twenty pound note and returned the rest to their holder. 

I strutted back into the kitchen, holding up the note. “I took this out of your wallet. I’m running to the spirit shop on the corner to buy another bottle of chardonnay with it. I’ll be back soon. When I’m gone I want you to… think about what you’d most like me to do to you and then envision me doing it to you.” 

Once again Ronit’s eyes registered disbelief at the unpredictable exercise of my authority. Recalling that both of us were new to this type of power imbalance I deemed it worthy to check in with her again.

“All going okay for you, Ronit?” I queried tenderly, bending over and placing a delicate kiss on her forehead. “The spirit shop is just over on the next block; if I go I can be back within ten minutes.”

“Why are you asking MY permission? You’re the boss,” Ronit responded, giving me a cheeky wink. 

Secure in the certainty that she continued to savor our experiment I ran my fingers through her hair, stopping when I reached her neck. 

“That’s right, I am, and don’t you forget it,” I stated, taking a lock of her wavy hair between my hand and giving it a quick tug. “If you behave yourself when I’m gone maybe you’ll get a reward.”

With that I breezed out of the kitchen, stopping at the hall closet to slip on a black cardigan and a pair of flats. Once I reached the spirit shop I swiftly purchased a bottle of chardonnay with the note I had taken from Ronit’s wallet. I didn’t want to leave her alone too long, in part because we were novices in these roles, but the thought of her tied up in my flat waiting for me to release and then pleasure her also gave me wings. 

On the brief walk home from the spirit shop I debated which of the many sexy scenarios I had envisioned playing out between Ronit and me I would select. Surely she was astonished by how seamlessly I employed such dominant words and actions; but it really wasn’t so strange, as like her I had engaged in these fantasies for years. Considering we were complete inverses of each other it was only natural for us to complement each other so fittingly. 

Closing the front door behind me I shrugged off my shoes and cardigan and tiptoed across the creaky living room floor. Entering the kitchen I was greeted by the same mind-boggling scene that I had taken leave of fifteen minutes earlier. I pretended not to notice her presence at first, bustling around the kitchen putting away food and opening the frosty American chardonnay. 

Pouring a sizeable amount of chardonnay into a glass I made my way over to my bound lover. “So, how did you pass the time during my absence?” I asked, seating myself on her nude lap, wrapping one arm around her shoulder and using the other to hang onto my wine. 

She shifted around eagerly as I straddled her, and leaned as best as she could into the embrace. Before she could give an answer I interjected, “How perfectly rude of me not to ask if you would like some wine, too, especially considering that you paid for it! Can I offer you any chardonnay, Ronit?”

Nodding promptly Ronit provocatively opened her mouth and tilted her head back. Raising my glass I slowly began to tilt it- but, intentionally bypassing her open mouth, poured a small amount onto one breast, and then the other. 

Ronit gasped at the sensation of the chill liquid on her warm skin. After giving her a moment to acclimate to this surprise I grabbed both of her shoulders and moved my mouth down to her right breast. Beginning at the outer swell of her breast I leisurely licked up the wine, following it with my tongue as it dripped further down her body. Once I reached her navel I worked my way back up to her left breast, swirling my tongue around her nipple. I continued to lap up the remainder of the wine, blowing gently on the trail that my tongue had just left. 

These varieties in temperature and texture were having quite the erotic effect on Ronit, who shivered and strained at the scarves securing her to the chair. Given the patience she had displayed for the past couple hours I decided that the time had come to present her with a prize. 

Extricating myself from her lap I knelt down in front of her. Using my elbows I firmly spread her legs as far apart as I suspected would be comfortable for her. “I want to let you know that despite my position on the floor I’m still the one in control,” I declared, sinking my teeth into her muscular thigh. A rush of ecstasy poured through her, encouraging me to continue to step up my game. 

“You’ve been very good, Ronit. So good, in fact, that I’ve decided that I am going to allow you to come,” I muttered between soft bites.

A husky moan blared out of her throat at my words, and as I looked down I could see how sopping she was, a most welcome invitation. Unable to wait any longer I wrapped my left arm around her waist to brace us both and drove two fingers into her. We both panted with longing at this contact, and I felt her inner muscles reflexively begin to clutch around my fingers. 

Remembering from the hotel in London that she could take a lot I carefully added my ring finger to my first two, looking up to gauge if this was too much for her. The sight of her eyes rolled back into her head informed me that it was most indeed not, and so I continued to pump in and out of her at an increasingly rapid tempo. 

Removing my other arm from around her waist I quickly used some of her wetness to lube up my other hand, which I began stroking over her clit as I carried on fingering her. Gazing up at her slyly as I fucked her with both hands I muttered, “Ronit, what would you do if I stopped right now?”

“You wouldn’t,” she grunted, lifting up her ass to improve the angle at which my three fingers penetrated her.

“Oh, wouldn't I?” I suggested naughtily, slowing my hands down just a bit. I was finding that I really got off on teasing her, although there would be no way in hell that I would cease before she had a mindblowing orgasm. 

“Please, Esti, please,” Ronit mewled. “Don’t. Stop. Nobody can make me feel the way that you do. Please, make me come.”

This admission, in which she basically told me none of her other lovers could compare to me, caused a series of firecrackers to explode across my field of vision. I twisted up closer to her ear and whispered, “That’s because you’re mine.” Squeezing her eyes shut she nodded in response, and I knew it wouldn’t be much longer. 

Lifting up the hand that had been rubbing her clit I seamlessly replaced it with my mouth, and began to suck. Expending every ounce of my energy I slammed in and out of her, my three fingers curling and uncurling inside of her. 

“Ronit,” I directed in a garbled voice, “I want you to squeeze my fingers as hard as you can. Keep doing it over and over and don’t stop unless I tell you to.”

Sensing this action would thrust her over the edge I very delicately nipped and sucked her clit, shuddering with lust as I felt her clench my fingers from within. 

“Esti,” Ronit called faintly. “Can I… do I have your permission to come?”

Agog at the influence that I exercised over her in this moment I answered her with a lively bow of my head, as my mouth was still full. 

After having experienced hours of teasing and exquisite delays of an orgasm Ronit was finally permitted to finish. I hoped my next door neighbors had already fallen asleep for the night, because if they hadn’t they most certainly would not have been spared the torrent of frenzied moans and shrieks issuing from her lips. 

As she climaxed I steadfastly kept my mouth fastened to her clit, delivering broad, merciless strokes as I greedily inhaled her. Her core spasmed around my fingers, clinching them so tightly that I lowered my elbow as far as possible in order to maintain my vigorous rhythm. Never a dainty lover Ronit had always preferred fast, strong pressure, and I willingly gave it to her. All of those evenings spent lifting 15 pound weights in front of the telly had paid off! 

Eventually Ronit began to grow quiet, and her trembles started to subside. Aware that she had finished I attentively withdrew my hands from her core. Giving her some time to recover I continued to kneel in front of her, warmly massaging her thighs and calves. Moving up further I placed fluttering kisses onto her breasts, stomach, and side, encouraging her to bask in the afterglow.

“Esti… how do you... Jesus. Fuck,” Ronit croaked, her inability to string together a coherent sentence causing a grin to break out across my satisfied face. 

I opted not to attempt a response to this fragment, instead standing up behind her and untying the scarves. Extending a hand out I tenderly invited her to rest with me for awhile. Visibly still in a trance Ronit blissfully concurred with my idea. Exiting the kitchen I shyly led her into my bedroom, indicating that she should lie down. Quickly I pulled off my dress, eager to feel her hot, naked body against mine.

As soon as Ronit was stretched out on her side I snuggled up behind her, reaching around with one arm to pull her as close to me as I could. No further words were exchanged between us, and as I laid there with a pounding heart I could hear her respire the calm breaths of sleep, a sound whose calmness ensured that I followed her there shortly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was an exhilarating and intimate experience- it took me quite a long time! I hope that you enjoy reading it, and that I did a decent job balancing the love and respect that these two have for each other within a dominant/submissive encounter.


End file.
